


Stress Relief

by LearnedFoot



Category: Girls (TV), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:54:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23844805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LearnedFoot/pseuds/LearnedFoot
Summary: Adam looks at his doppelganger. His doppelganger looks back.“Well,” Adam says. “This is weird.”
Relationships: Adam Sackler/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 10
Kudos: 13
Collections: What Fen Do (Instead of Going Outside)





	Stress Relief

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fairleigh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fairleigh/gifts).



> Thanks for giving me an excuse to play with this, the best crossover crack ship in the universe.

Adam wakes up to a man in armor staring down at him. The armor pings a childhood memory he doesn’t have the brain space to place, because most of his brain space is taken up by the giant god damn gun the guy is carrying. What the fuck? He’s pretty sure guns that large are illegal in New York.

“Supreme Leader,” the guy says in an aggressively disguised voice, like a robot or something. It’s some serious serial killer shit.

Great. If he’s murdered by a serial killer, Hannah is totally going to write a short story about it, or one of those interminable personal essays. His whole life story reduced to a viral click-bait flash in the pan on Slate.

“Supreme Leader?” the guy repeats when Adam doesn’t reply. “Do you…need help?”

He sounds hesitant, which is pretty rich coming from the guy with the gun.

“Supreme who?” Adam repeats. Wait, what is he doing? If the serial killer gun guy wants to defer to him, he should let him. “No thanks, I got it.”

He stands, using the opportunity to figure out where he is. A hallway. A very metal hallway, like something straight out of that terrible CW spaceship pilot he let his agent talk him into doing. Did he pass out on a film set? He pinches himself, even though he’s pretty sure the idea that you can’t feel pain in dreams is bullshit. It does hurt, for whatever that’s worth. 

“What are you wearing?” Robot dude asks and then immediately flinches. It’s very strange to see a guy in full armor flinch.

“What are _you_ wearing?” Adam snaps back, before his brain, apparently finally catching up with the proceedings, supplies an answer: it’s a Storm Trooper costume. 

Storm Trooper. Like…right. _Star Wars_. He remembers those movies from a stupid sleepover he was forced to go to as a child. He watched them huddled in a sleeping bag, wishing he could fall asleep but not able to because Johnny fucking Wilson wouldn’t stop screaming random bullshit at the top of his lungs.

“What is this, one of those cons or something?” he guesses. “Nice costume, very convincing.”

“Uhhh,” the Storm Trooper guy replies, unhelpfully.

“Alright, whatever. Can you just tell me which way the exit is?”

“You will not be exiting. You’re coming with me.”

What the—

Adam whips around and is confronted with his own face—minus the beard, plus a scar and an extremely epic outfit, but definitely his own face. It’s his voice, too.

Fuck. What the _fuck_.

“Um,” he manages.

His doppelganger waves in the direction of the Storm Trooper. “There’s nothing to see here,” he says, tone deep and commanding. It’s kind of sexy, actually. Adam should figure out if he can make his voice do that. “Nothing unusual. Go on your way.”

The Storm Trooper repeats, “Nothing unusual,” and then marches away.

Adam looks at his doppelganger. His doppelganger looks back.

“Well,” Adam says. “This is weird.”

***

His doppelganger physically drags Adam down the halls; whenever they run into another Storm Trooper—and there are a lot of them—doppledude waves them away. It’s awesome. Less awesome is the vice-like grip he keeps on Adam’s wrist the whole time, which fucking hurts and is completely unnecessary, thank you. Adam has no god damn idea what the fuck is happening, but if he has to roll the dice on trusting someone, the dude that looks like him and has superpowers seems like the right bet.

Finally, they reach a door and doppledude shoves him inside. It’s a bedroom. Big, futuristic, way too neat for someone who looks like him—but definitely a bedroom. Or…living quarters. That’s what they’d called it in the CW show.

“Alright, what the _fuck_ is going on?” Adam asks as the door closes behind his doppleganger. “Who the fuck are you and why do you look like me?”

“Who am _I_? I’m Kylo Ren. Supreme Leader of the First Order. How can you not know that?”

Doppledude’s imposing grandeur breaks on the last sentence; for a moment, he sounds like a petulant child. The tonal whiplash makes Adam’s head spin. Also, for the record, that is a stupid name.

“Yeah, I don’t know what a Supreme Leader is. I’m Adam. Sackler. Adam Sackler.” He holds out his hand, but it immediately feels like an absurd thing to do, so he takes it back. “I’m going to be totally honest with you, Kylo. Something real crazy is going on, and it’s kind of freaking me out. You got any ideas?”

Kylo levels him with an appraising look. After a dramatic pause, he says, “I do.”

***

Parallel universes, a disturbance in the Force, a rift caused by the return of some dude named Palpatine: the explanation boils down to a big old magical mistake. Adam would call it literally unbelievable, except the options are believe it, or accept that he’s cracked, so he’s going to try believing it.

“Palpatine,” Adam repeats, slumping into a free chair as he attempts to process. The name niggles the same part of his memory as the Storm Trooper. “Are you telling me _Star Wars_ is real?”

“I don’t know what that is.”

Okay, fair enough. Adam slots the whole concept aside for another day. There’s probably a big philosophical question buried here. Are all fictional stories just reflections of parallel worlds? Can truth reverberate across invisible barriers? Who gives a shit. He just wants to go home.

“I’m going to figure out how to get you home,” Kylo says. It’s gentle, almost kind, as if he can tell what Adam is thinking. They’re practically the same person, maybe he can.

“Hey, thanks.”

Kylo clears his throat, making a visible effort to wipe any sympathy off his face before he adds, “In the meantime, I can’t have you wandering around the ship. You’ll have to stay here.”

Adam shrugs. There are a lot of books, and room to work out. It’s not the worst thing in the world. “Fine, but I want dinner.”

***

Adam sleeps on a sleeping pad on the floor. He spends the next day doing push-ups and reading up on the history of the Galactic Empire, only to discover history is boring bullshit even if it’s about space battles. Kylo doesn’t come back until late that night. When he does, he barely says a word. Just storms in, goes to bed, and is gone by the time Adam wakes up the next morning. 

Rinse and repeat the next day. And the one after that. At least Kylo remembers to have food sent up on a regular basis. Adam wonders how he’s managed that without making anyone suspicious. Probably more mind tricks.

It’s not the worst thing in the world, but not the best, either.

***

By the end of day three, Adam’s getting sick of the boredom. But he knows himself well enough to know he doesn’t like to be pushed when he’s already pissed off. Since Kylo seems to be some sort of bizaro world version of himself—a bizaro world version who can fuck with people’s minds—he figures he has to play this cool. 

When Kylo comes huffing in that night, grumbling like Adam after a late rehearsal or one of those stupid fucking parties Hannah used to make him go to, Adam’s ready.

“So, any update on the whole getting me home thing?” he starts, nice and neutral. Just trying to get a conversation going.

“If there was an update, I’d give you an update,” Kylo snaps. “You are not the only thing I have to deal with right now.”

With that, he sweeps off to the showers with a snarl, whipping his cape as he goes. It’s actually pretty cool. Adam should try to get more roles with capes.

But if he wants to do something other than sit here in silence for the foreseeable future, he needs a new plan, since asking nicely is clearly a no go. Okay. Operating off the principle that he and Sir Grump a Lot share cosmic similarities, what would get _him_ to stop stomping around and grumbling and being the most boring roommate in the history of roommates?

Oh. Obviously.

***

“You seem stressed,” he says when Kylo returns to the room, wrapped in a large towel and nothing else. “Want to relieve it?”

He thinks it’s a decent line, but Kylo just looks confused. “I would love to, but unless you have suggestions about how to crush a rebellion or return you to your proper universe, I don’t see that happening.”

“I was thinking something more interactive.”

“Interactive?”

His blank look makes it clear he still doesn’t get it. Maybe they haven’t invented innuendo in space land.

“Sex, dude. I’m talking about sex.”

Well, now he gets it, but he’s also looking at Adam like he’s grown a second head.

“What?” Adam says defensively, even though Kylo hasn’t actually said anything he needs to defend himself from. He might as well have; it’s there in the eyes. “You haven’t thought about it? I mean, we have the same dick, you have to be curious if we like the same stuff.”

“No, I have not thought about it.” Kylo sounds actively offended at the concept.

“Are you opposed to touching a dick or something? We share the same brain, I don’t buy that.” Though, on second thought, if space land hasn’t invented innuendo, maybe they haven’t worked their way to guy-on-guy action, either. “Besides, it’s basically masturbation.”

Adam thinks that’s a rock solid argument in any universe, but Kylo just turns away, muttering something that sounds like “ridiculous” and “not entertaining this conversation.”

Well, fuck. If sex doesn’t sell here, Adam is out of ideas.

***

The next day, Kylo bursts into the room in the middle of the afternoon and shoves Adam against a wall.

“What the—” is all Adam manages to get out before Kylo thrusts his tongue down his throat.

The kiss is sloppy and rough. Adam can practically taste Kylo’s anger—not directed at him, but at something out there. Or someone, maybe. Some annoying shit that has been building up until he wants to burst. Not that Adam is speaking from experience.

He kisses back. This is the most interesting thing to happen since the initial shock of the whole situation wore off. Despite the messiness, it’s going pretty well until Adam starts to unbuckle the stupid complicated cape and Kylo freezes.

That’s when it hits him—Kylo’s not kissing sloppy because he’s mad, he’s kissing sloppy because he has no idea what he’s doing. That explains yesterday night, too. 

“You’ve never done this before,” Adam states. Not a question.

Kylo swallows. “Of course I have.”

Adam wonders if he’s that transparent when he lies. Hopefully not. He returns to pulling at the cloak. “Don’t worry about it. Like I said, same dick. Let me handle it.”

***

Kylo comes within about thirty seconds of having a hand wrapped around his dick, so obviously Adam’s guess was right. Which is all good, but he’s pretty concerned about how stupid and scrunched his face gets at the height of orgasm. There are some things it’s better not to know about yourself.

To Kylo’s credit, he fumbles his way to giving Adam a hand job in return. For a total novice, he’s not half bad.

Like Adam said: same dick.

***

Kylo leaves without talking about it, but when he comes back that night he shoves Adam against the wall again—and lasts a full two minutes. _Good for you_ , Adam doesn’t risk saying out loud.

***

After, Kylo actually says, “Thanks. That…helps.”

Finally, an in. “Told you. I may not know anything about intergalactic whatever, but I know some things. I have a life, too.”

Kylo drops to his bed, slumped. He looks exhausted. “More of one than I do, apparently.”

Hesitantly, Adam sits next to him. How far he can press this? Kylo glances over, but doesn’t tell him to move. Okay. Good first step. They’re making progress here.

“Do you…do you want to talk about it?” He can’t believe he just said that. He is not the person who asks if other people want to talk. What has boredom turned him into?

Kylo’s jaw does this thing where it works back and forth as he considers his options. It’s very aggressive. Adam’s weirdly into it.

“No,” he eventually snarls, “I do not want to ‘talk about it.’” Then, to Adam’s surprise, he pushes him down onto the bed. “I want more stress relief.”

Hey. Adam’s not going to argue with that.

***

The best part? Kylo’s a quick learner. Or Maybe Adam’s a really awesome teacher. Either way, it only takes a few days until Kylo’s sucking dick like a pro.

***

Adam still wants to go home, of course. Eventually. He can’t stay locked in a room fucking the emo goth Galactic ruler version of himself forever. But he’s just saying—it could be worse.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, feedback is loved <3
> 
> Also, I went completely insane with this exchange and wrote about 20k in a week. Please, _please_ point out the inevitable typos that made it through. I promise I will be grateful, not annoyed.


End file.
